Imprinting
by MonaLovely
Summary: Request to kink meme - mpreg. Half-fill. Mordin is experimenting in the lab, and ends up with a few little...problems on his hands. Fem!Shep is the one he calls for an opinion. Fill is tender, a little silly and a little sad.
1. Chapter 1

"EDI, can you give me Mordin's status?"

"The professor is still in his lab, commander. However he insisted I keep the doors locked until he opens them. Out of respect on behalf of the crew and of possible medical issues involving a quarantine, I am still under those orders."

"Dammit. Thanks anyway, EDI."

Shepard punched in the number on the elevator console, brow furrowing as she descended. Mordin was secretive, she knew that. Ever since the beginning when she had recruited him, she'd discovered his penchant for keeping the whole truth out of reach, experimenting without her knowledge, only to find some brilliant breakthrough, or a dark spot kept cleverly hidden, brewing ugly beneath the surface. The latter times had become fewer and fewer, gladly, but this new development was beginning to gnaw on the old worries in the back of her mind.

Mordin had been relatively more subdued, commenting on feeling heavy and sluggish, greatly irritated by the symptoms hampering the quick, sharp nature that allowed him to work so efficiently. Two days prior, he had completely closed off the lab and set quarantine locks via EDI on the doors - Shepard had not received so much as a message.

She had a feeling in her gut that something was up.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"I want an instant alert directly to me as soon as he lifts that quarantine on the lab."

"Understood, Commander."

The hologram flickered out, and Shepard added under her breath, "If he ever lifts it."

Surprisingly enough, it was Mordin who beat her to it.

"Commander."

"Yes, EDI?"

"Mordin would like to speak with you in the labs. Quarantine is no longer in ef-"

Mordin himself was unsurprised to find within moments, a frazzled Shepard storming down to the lab, hurling questions at him like rocks at a pyjak.

"Shepard-"

"What's going on? Why haven't we heard so much as a one word report on what you're doing in here?"

"Lab has to remain secure for various reasons, Shepard."

"Regardless, I have every right to know what's going on on my ship."

"Secrets have times where they should be kept."

"You could have at least sent me a message."

"Didn't have time. Was…caught up."

"Caught up in what? We have another disease on our hands?"

"No, nothing poses threat to crew," Mordin reassured her. "Not significant threat at least."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "Not the best time to be cracking wise, Mordin, not when you scared me half to death."

"Didn't know you cared about me so much."

"Really, Mordin. Not the time."

"Point taken." His light demeanor fell, and for a moment, Shepard thought he looked nervous. "Have come to trust you as more than a leader," he said. "Have come to see you…as a friend." He paused for a fraction of a second - what felt like an age to him, but barely gave time for Shepard to process the words. "Anyway, have a bit of a situation…revealing another secret. Seems to be becoming a habit, now."

"I can handle your secrets, Mordin, as long as they don't include another episode of being chased down by a hormonal varren in heat on Tuchanka."

Mordin giggled, actually _giggled_, and in that moment, the commander felt her irritation melt slightly.

"No, no rampant sexual varren." Mordin cleared his throat, composed himself. "Doesn't involve mission of any kind. More…must show you, no other way. No choice."

He ducked down behind the lab table, rustled around a bit. Shepard craned her neck, trying to see, uncrossing her arms to better glance over the tabletop, but he was already standing up with…it wasn't a basket, but it wasn't a bowl, more of a mix between the two. Distinctly salarian in its artistry, curves and shapes carved…or woven…very telling. In this carrier that the professor placed on the table were a dozen green and blue shelled eggs, nestled in what looked like towels and the blanket to Mordin's cot.

The silence that stretched between them lasted almost a full minute.

"Where did you get those?"

Mordin remained uncharacteristically quiet.

"You…purchased salarian eggs? For what, experiments?"

"Didn't purchase them. Would never have had chance to, considering cultural norms. Always kept with Dalatrass from moment of laying to hatching. Besides…" He sniffed, looking a little ruffled. "Would never even entertain idea of experimenting on fertilized eggs for the sake of it."

"But you would take part in the production of a genophage that would be the equivalent of making sure all these hatched stillborn?"

"Have moved on, Shepard," said Mordin sternly, visibly affronted. "Have made mistakes, aware of it! Made amends where necessary, have nothing more to give with interest of galaxy at hand."

"Give me a reason why you have these other than to experiment. Just tell me - why you have them, how you got them…whatever. What else would they be for?"

"Not factor in experiment, Shepard."

"What?"

"Product."

"…What?"

Mordin's hands, usually so quick and restless, carefully tucked the blanket closer around a little blue shell. "Biology fascinating." He sniffed. "Salarian anatomy and biological chemistry obviously very different from that of other species. Equivalent to mix between mammal and amphibious species on natively human planets." He blinked, still as calm and composed and nonchalant as though he were speaking to her of the effects of a flu shot.

"Remember telling you about asari attractions. How hormone agents are different and yet attraction still occurs. Must be neurochemical. Could be mix of both if received on both ends."

"Get to the point."

"Ah, yes. Well, tampered with biology a bit more than expected." He looked back at her stunned and befuddled expression. "Some species of amphibians in terrestrial or semi-aquatic environments apt to change in single sex environment. Most commonly from male to female, occasionally vice-versa. Must know that salarian population is composed of 90% male. Species adapted to the former change, with the ability to transfer back as necessary."

"Wait, so you can just flip your gender whenever you like?"

"When exposed to certain elements. Most common when population in dire need of females. Less testosterone possessing males will make the change easier; usually involuntary. Has not happened to general population in large numbers on home planet for almost fifty years." He blinked again, looked back down at the dozen little orbs in front of him. "Rare. Very rare now, as is not completely acceptable in social norms. However…" He gestured around the lab. "Less limitation, here."

"So…you were experimenting on yourself?"

"Not intentionally. Was a bit careless, have to say. Exposed self for marginally too long to unbalanced hormone agents of both asari and salarian. Effects…" He sniffed. "Full change did not occur. Merely contained both sets of internal sex organs."

"Wait, wait, so you just unintentionally turned yourself into a hermaphrodite?" she sputtered, incredulous.

"Intersexed more scientific term, Shepard."

A grin of astonishment flickered across the commander's face, mingled with mirth and something like exasperation.

"These…" he brushed his hand out over the eggs... "…a product of that experiment. Soon after, found hormones balanced enough again to revert completely to male. Fascinating study, if weren't so personal," he added, tapping his chin with a thoughtful little smile.

"How…my God…how long ago did this happen?"

"Change occurred sometime five days ago. Eggs about three days old."

"What?"

"Eggs -"

"I thought you were sick! That's why you quarantined yourself in here? To hide the fact you were laying eggs?"

"Not the most dignified or pleasant of experiences, Shepard," Mordin said, a twinge of sheepishness in his voice that struck yet another chord of endearment in the commander's heart. "Rather…preferred to be alone."

An odd urge to laugh crept up in her throat, but she pushed it down. "Privacy. Got it."

"Hard to explain. Found…deeply personal. Not just physically." He looked for a moment as he had when he had requested her help on Tuchanka, sitting in the shuttle in the aftermath…when he had spoken of Kirrahe's death, the injury to his horn, his regrets on the ethics of his project…Shepard wanted suddenly to scoop him up and squeeze him tight until they forgot about everything.

"Not a normal situation, Shepard. By any means. Socially, culturally, biologically…" He sniffed. "Emotionally. Difficult to concentrate on work. Find self…wanting only to study them. Leave other experiments. Distressing." The commander's soft laugh caught his attention. "Being foolish?"

"They're your babies, Mordin. Of course you want to take care of them."

A small flicker of a grin appeared on his face, but his gaze turned melancholy again as he drew a finger across a shell. "Near to unheard of situation for a salarian. Parents usually never see the eggs for more than a few minutes. Once clutch is laid, taken to Dalatrass. Meant to ensure loyalty. Imprinting. Very political process too." His face wrinkled. "Always found that distasteful. Dalatrass becomes more maternal figure than actual mother." He looked up. "Parents disconnected for good reason. Cannot grow too attached. Eggs prone to viruses, weaknesses. Dalatrass usually suited as healer as well as guardian."

"You're a doctor, I'm sure you'll do fine as their 'healer' or whatnot or other. You take care of us just fine, and that's saying something." When he didn't react, Shepard sighed and bit her lip. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Have few options. Could take them to relatives. Hard to explain self. Could never get there before hatching. Will simply have to…" he sniffed. "Brood them myself."

"Makes you sound like a mama hen."

Mordin smiled. He was quiet a moment, then added, "Better with companion. Or…at least companion knowledge."

"That's why you called me up here?"

"Yes."

"Mordin…I don't have children. I mean…what about…" She regretted that the instant she said it. Thane and Samara were the only two parents on the ship. Samara had long since distanced herself from her children, had gone so far as to kill her brightest, and Thane was in a bind in his current relations with Kolyat.

Mordin fixed her with a gaze, his large, oval eyes difficult to read. "Am expert in scientific sense. Obvious the experiment mishap, the statistics that eggs will hatch and survive, et cetera." He swallowed, breathed deep. "Novice on social level. Would like to view it more as simple experiment, but…proving difficult. Never had offspring. Old fertility contract…did not succeed. Put it out of mind. Did not expect to come across problem later in life." He smiled with that same sheepishness at her. "Looked for help. Or at least for solace. Too many secrets. Need to maintain trust. Can't do that when not open. Also…chose you for reason. Female, social, family oriented, it seems."

Shepard tried and failed to resist the urge to raise her eyebrows.

"Comparatively to the rest of the ship," Mordin corrected wryly. "Said before, see you as a friend. Was hoping would let me share this secret with you." He shrugged. "Have already shared many. Have found keeping too many…detrimental."

Shepard smiled, but did not speak. Mordin looked down again.

"Females present. Unusual."

"How can you tell?"

"Blue shells usually female. Green male. Fertilized after laid, usually. For some reason…occurred internally."

"Ah. So…it's usually just a clutch of male or female?"

"Yes. Haplo-diploid egg-layers. Unfertilized produce male. Fertilized, female. Strict social norms mean very few daughters ever born." He drew in a breath. "Very unusual."

"And you've apparently got three little girls."

"Seems so."

"And they're all alive? Viable?"

"Correct."

"Wow. How'd you find that out?"

"Ran simple experiment."

"Mordin!"

"Oh, nonsense. Had to test." He waved her outburst away with his old demeanor again. "Completely safe. Here, will show you."

A few flicks on his omni-tool and the lights dimmed completely, shutters closed to the outside. Instinctively, the commander's eyes widened to adjust, blinking with a soft gasp as Mordin's three-fingered hand gripped her wrist and pulled her around the table, close to him. A hum, and he was holding a soft round light in his palm. The little pin of brightness reflected twice in his eyes like a pair of twin stars. With care, he picked up an egg, a blue one, and held the light up beneath it. The orb glowed a soft pink - just through the shell, Shepard could see a tiny spot. It flickered a bit, a small, steady rhythm.

"Heartbeat," Mordin murmured. "Alive. Should hatch by this time in ten days or so." He sounded fonder than Shepard assumed he meant to, but upon looking at him, she found that same tenderness in his expression. Tentatively, she sidled closer as he showed her another egg, another, all the same, all eagerly pulsing with their own new little spark, new vitality, new promise of life.


	2. Chapter 2

"What's that sound?"

Shepard, fresh from a talk with Thane in Life Support, was surprised to see Garrus had ventured from the main battery to the mess hall, apparently searching for the source of whatever he heard.

"What sound?"

"That music."

"I don't hear any music."

"No, I swear, I hear something. Someone singing."

"Someone have XM Citadel on?"

"No, I…I think it's…Mordin."

The room went quiet; Shepard listened, tilted her head, and sure enough, she heard the professor's voice serenading…

_"It's not that easy being green…"_

Shepard covered her mouth, her eyes widening, and Garrus's mandibles flared in his equivalent of a smile. "He's…hell, he's not bad."

"Oh my god…" A warm, fluttery bubble in Shepard's chest was threatening to burst in a squeal, but she forced herself to repress it, and instead grabbed Garrus by the arm and dragged him to the elevator.

"Didn't really take him for a singer."

"Didn't serenade you with Scientist Salarian? Gave me quite a surprise."

"Not as close with him as you are, Shep."

She wasn't blushing. She told herself that, but there was the same little fluke in her belly at the thought that she was on more intimate terms with the professor than her other squadmates.

_"It's not that easy being green. It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things…"_

Shepard led Garrus out of the elevator as quietly as possible, finger to her lips, and inched toward the tech room door.

Garrus gripped her arm. "Wait," came his gravelly murmur. "He'll hear the doors."

Shepard bit her lip.

_"Or stars in the sky…"_

"EDI?" she breathed.

"Done, Shepard." EDI's voice was muted, audible only to the commander, as were the soft clicks of the door's hydraulics being slowly let out, whisper silent beneath the salarian's continuing melody.

Tucked behind the lip of the door, the human and the turian watched as Mordin fluttered around the room, tweaking temperature controls here and there, adjusting instruments.

_"But green's the color of the spring…"_ Shepard could see the basket of eggs sitting on the examination table in front of him. _"And green can be cool and friendly-like…" _He picked up the nearest pale green on_e. "And green can be big like an ocean…"_ Gently, he turned the egg… _"Or important like a mountain…"_ …wrapped it again in its soft towel…_"or tall like a tree…" _…and lovingly tucked it next to its brothers and sisters.

Shepard, hand over her heart and positively grinning from ear to ear, felt the turian tap her on the shoulder. "What's he doing?"

"He's…_nesting_."

Garrus's brow raised with all the leeway a turian face would allow, but didn't press the matter. It was evident that this rather tender display by the doctor was endearing to him, if not to the same degree as it was to his commander.

_"When green is all there is to be…" _If Mordin was aware of their presence, he didn't show it, simply rocked the basket, back and forth. _"It could make you wonder why, but why wonder…why wonder? You are green…" _He tapped an egg affectionately. _"And it'll do fine. It's beautiful and I think it's what you'll want to be."_

Garrus put a hand on the commander's arm and pulled her back. "Let's leave him."

"Already saw you," the professor piped up, not looking at them, his face content and placid.

"Ah…oh, uh, well…"

"Found that certain songs in regular repertoire not quite…lullaby material." If Shepard didn't know any better, she'd have sworn she saw him blush. "Found others more suitable. Seemed appropriate."

"Didn't know you were a Muppets fan, Mordin."

The professor shrugged. "Jim Henson as important cultural influence as Gilbert and Sullivan."

"More than patter songs up your sleeve." The commander grinned and sighed. "We'll let you be."

"Shepard," Mordin murmured, still rocking his eggs. "Don't feel need to sneak in." He looked up, smiling. "Don't mind being overheard. By you or any of crew. Always welcome, although crew seems unlikely to follow up on offer."

Shepard laughed softly as the door hissed shut behind them. "Never know, Doc," she murmured. "I'd say even Jack might like one of your lullabies."

**_Forgive me for the silliness. 3 I just ADORE Mordin, and had a dream of him singing this (yes, really). As always, reviews make me siiiinnnnggggg and inspiration run bold._**


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard was, as Mordin hypothesized, the only one to return. But she was secretly a bit pleased that she was the only one. She enjoyed sitting and listening to Mordin's extensive repertoire of sweet, soft songs, watching him turn his eggs, rewrap them and keep them bundled and incubated.

"You love them already, don't you?" she said one day, seated by his examination table, elbows propped on the surface with her cheek resting in her palm.

"Confess level of attachment. Hormone level changes most likely culprit. Haven't experimented yet. Instinct to protect and care for offspring. Could be temporary, part of experiment. Not usual to stay in salarian parents very often. Once returned to Sur'Kesh, may diminish. May forget about them. May want to stay with them even though unable to. Many options. Many options. Still…" He sniffed. "May be difficult."

"Too many goodbyes, lately."

"Part of life. Have said many goodbyes. Colleagues, family, lovers, friends. Will say more. Sure of it."

"Too sure of it, unfortunately." Shepard shifted to the other cheek, a smile playing on her lips. "What was that about saying goodbye to a lover?"

"Not in the human sense," Mordin replied nonchalantly, tipping the contents of a vile into another one. "Back in STG days. Common theme. Surrounded by so many intelligent individuals. Some with similar ideas. Some with completely different. Either clash or connect. Sometimes both. Social...opportunities arise. Sometimes emotional, sometimes physical, occasionally both. Kirrahe and I example of that."

Shepard sat bolt upright, nearly knocking over a few of the precious viles the professor had worked so tediously to measure perfectly.

"Ah, sorry, but…you and Kirrahe?"

Mordin took a moment to answer, realizing the human's interest in the matter. "Bisexuality common in race with nine tenths male population," he said. "Salarian love different. More akin to close friendships like this one." He gestured casually between the two of them, and yet Shepard felt that little clench on her heart grow even stronger. "Said before, some become…more physical. Combination with Kirrahe and I. Was different. Were at odds with each other." His head tilted, a crafty little grin appearing on his face. "Absolute cloaca, the captain, but…enjoyed it. Like difficult experiment, adventurous process, being proven wrong, fighting for answers, denied them, only resulted in more need to explore, make discoveries…"

"There could be more than one meaning to that, Mordin."

"Pfft. Human cheekiness." He flicked a towel at her. "STG ended. Contact gradually faded. Never fully agreed on decisions. Goodbye felt incomplete, felt…odd." A deep breath. "Was more reluctant than originally predicted. News of death…also more saddening than predicted. Yet…am here." He nodded, returned to work. "Said farewells. Moved on. Have to."

Shepard had gone awfully quiet, staring at her hands folded numbly in her lap - a striking difference from the alight air moments ago.

Mordin knew what she was thinking and paused. "Shepard," he said quietly. "Do not blame you in the least."

"But-"

"Died for cause. Wanted to. Would rather go down fighting and be remembered. Had reason for speeches. Partially to improve morale. Partially to satisfy need to verbalize." He paused. "Partially to make death in battle more acceptable. Glorified. Idiotic and idealistic, but still…" He sniffed. "Good captain. Overall mission successful. Proud of him."

Shepard noted his brightened eyes and the fact that he blinked a few more times than was normal. That urge to hold him crawled up again to claw at her chest.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Mordin."

"No use dwelling, Shepard. Time to grieve taken already. Had good life. Good times. Good memories, be them full of bickering. Full of life."

He smiled reassuringly. Shepard eventually nodded.

"Still," Mordin glanced over at his clutch of eggs. "Always knew how to push my buttons. Find soft spots, even in his idea of 'good fun'. Complained mine were too restricting. Replied his were simply insulting. Ridiculous. Childish. Only showed that side around me, it seems." He sniffed. "Occasionally wonder what he would say. About this. Which spikes he'd throw."

"I think he'd be proud of you, Mordin."

The look he gave her was unlike one she'd ever seen - unnerving and intriguing at the same time, a mix of vulnerability and pure calculation. Shepard didn't flinch, but her insides were quivering. Then…

"Thank you, Shepard."

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><p><strong>More to come. Thank you so much to all you babycakes who've been reading this.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

"Shepard!"

The commander's head snapped up from her datapad. "Professor? What are you doing here?" Of all places to expect him, the Mess Hall was most out of place.

"Need word with you. Many words actually. Doesn't matter. Urgent!"

Chest tightening, Shepard quickly followed him to the elevator, punching in the code for the lab.

"What's going on?"

"Heart rate elevated in Mr. Krios. Not due to Kepral's syndrome. Also present in Garrus Vakarian and Samara. Apparent in Mr. Moreau as well. Most unusual. Respiration diminished." Mordin blinked. "In all four, due to…plague remnants."

Shepard's eyes widened, a block of ice sinking into her stomach. "What?"

"Recent journey to Omega, deal with Ardat-Yakshi. Must have slipped in while docked. Placed there? No, no, no, too risky, would have noticed stranger. Slum vicinity, infected victims? No, carriers! Must have leaked in through air supply unintentionally."

"Just through close vicinity?" Shepard raked her fingers through her hair. "God, it's like typhoid Mary."

Mordin gave her a quizzical look.

"Never mind. Human metaphor. So…" She drew a hand across her forehead. "Some previously diseased stranger's affinity to the ship or the docking area could have contaminated our air supply?"

The lab door opened with a hiss as Mordin continued. "Possible. Could have just been remnants in the city. High probability in Omega. Remnants might just still have been dormant on ship. Plausible. Not pleasant, but plausible."

"So much for human immunity. And I thought you cured the plague."

"Did. Viruses alive, though, if in different sense than you and I. Still, grow, change, adapt. Attack different things, but could greatly diminishes lung cell ability to multiply and develop. Milder in those exposed already. Will run immuno-boosters on rest of crew, should take care of any remnants."

"Alright. Do what you…Mordin?"

The professor had suddenly stopped speaking, his body completely still - thoughts were obviously racing through his brain at an incomprehensible speed, his already large eyes widening. "Need you out, Shepard."

"Mordin-"

"Out, Shepard." He seized her wrist and led her swiftly to the door in three strides. "Have work to do."

The door hissed, glowed red. Sign of a quarantine. Shepard blinked, stunned.

"Commander, something wrong?" Kelly had peered into the hallway, obviously alarmed at the sharp buzz that heralded another med lockdown.

Shepard, baffled, looked back at her. Thoughts were blazing through her head, connected, but refusing to register.

"Cured plague seems to have leaked back into the ship. Not to a serious level, but…" Then the words, the quarantine, the whole situation clicked with horrible realization. "Oh…" Shepard put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Mordin."

* * *

><p>Within a few hours, Mordin had opened up the lab again. He was short with Shepard, who had all but sprinted down to the labs at the sound of the power locks being released.<p>

"Cultures developed. Different strain. Not as potent in original symptoms. Poses potential long-term complications in crew already exposed. Simple immuno-booster once a day for the next three days. Already administered to self. Need other shipmates. All of them. Could affect humans more seriously than originally predicted."

"What about your…"

Mordin's lips hardened into a thin line, one of worry rather than irritation. "Administered booster as blanket protection. Plague not as virulent as previous. Not as dangerous to life. However…" he sniffed. "Could cripple embryonic nervous system. Cause inability to develop."

"Like the genophage."

A muscle in Mordin's face twitched, but he didn't comment on her words. "Cure also risky. Could react too strongly with current virus. Turn on immune system unless exceptionally strong. Difficult to tell in the current developmental stage. Am…am apprehensive, Shepard."

"Do what you have to. I'll let everyone know."

* * *

><p>It was a flurry for the rest of the day. Within the time Shepard had sent a full alert through the ship, the crew had gone up for their assigned immunizations. She stood by the command deck, gnawing her lip as she watched the crew, all thirty five of them, file in and out.<p>

"Egh…" Garrus had just appeared, rubbing the side of his neck, the only suitably soft enough spot for an injection. "He said there'd be drowsiness and headaches, but this feels more like three shots of ryncol and a noogie from Urdnot Wrex."

"Excuse to take a break from those damn calibrations, Vakarian." Shepard managed a grin as her friend came to stand beside her.

"I'll say." Garrus yawned. "Mordin's a bit out of sorts. Less…chatty than usual."

Shepard didn't say anything for a moment. "He's…preoccupied."

"About…or is it none of my business?"

"You saw earlier."

"Those eggs?"

"Yes." She looked down at her feet. "I shouldn't say this, but...I trust you." Her breath shook slightly. "One of his experiments went a bit awry…"

"Awry?"

"To put it delicately. And now we may have twelve little salarians on board within the next few days."

Garrus's mouth opened in surprise, then shut, then opened again...then closed. "Hmph. Wow. Mordin's a father? Or…mother?"

Shepard laughed against her better judgement, but nodded. "Yes. We've got a mama hen onboard." She sighed. "He takes care of the rest of us so well, and now he's scared he can't take care of…"

"This sure can't be helping."

"No."

Garrus looked to the lab, then squeezed her shoulder. "He's a smart guy. I'm sure he'll whip something up."

Shepard merely nodded. Her voice had hidden itself in fear.

* * *

><p>She was last to head into the lab, much to Miranda's, and probably many other's, disapproval (she'd insisted as the commander, Shepard should be top priority).<p>

"I'm here," she said. Mordin, who had been filling a syringe, nodded briefly to her. "Any news?"

"Nothing concrete. Been busy. Have to take care of crew, take care of eggs, check updates, keep warm, keep self from getting sick…"

Shepard put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Mordin murmured, roling up her sleeve. "Part of job. Part of life. Still…" A breath. "Worry." His gaze flickered over to his protected basket. "Tests have been…unsettling. Unsure. Breathe in…" He gave her a quick stab with the syringe, and within a moment, was rolling down her sleeve again, giving her bicep a soft rub - a surprisingly affectionate gesture.

"You've done us well, Mordin. You always do." Her fingers brushed over his as she went to cross her arms again. "Thank you. For taking care of us. For always taking care of us." The professor managed a small smile - it looked like the first that entire day.

"Wanted to thank you, Shepard. Been form of solace. Comfort. Great deal of help in dealing with current…situation. Simply hope that-"

"Professor Solus…" EDI's voice was muted, carried weight.

Mordin looked over, brow furrowed. "Report?"

There was no other words. Shepard sucked in her breath when he suddenly moved to the opposite side of the monitor, stared at the screen. He turned to his eggs, drew things up on his omni-tool, the lights instantly dimming. He picked up an egg, turned his back to Shepard…she could see the light shining soft and pink on his face, reflecting in his eyes, which were suddenly glassy and shiner than they should have been…

"Mordin?"

He didn't speak for a moment. "…Thank you, EDI." The lights came on again, harsh and glaring against his gently sloped shoulders.

Shepard was quiet.

Voice thick, the professor finally spoke. "Plague would have crippled them. Cure…simply killed them."

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><p><strong>Ahh, I'm sorryyyy. Alas, this story's not over!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry to leave the last chapter on a sad note. Hope this one can end a little better. I couldn't leave it too long, for fear of losing you all!**

**Once again, thank you so much for reading this silly little story. Means a lot.**

* * *

><p>There were very few times when the Normandy was completely quiet. The standard times were warped as they travelled across the galaxy, people squeezing in sleep when they could, biological patterns different, either crashing or revving up after a mission, with consequences either way.<p>

Only on the Normandy was rest this chaotic.

But the halls were quiet now.

Time seemed to collect together, the single, insanity-driven clock finally seemed to sync. Everyone bided, slept, or tried to. The Commander, in her non-regulation t-shirt and shorts, could only sit cross legged on the comforter and stare at her fish, circling dimwittedly in the large tank across from her bed, her thoughts trapped in the lab with her dear professor.

Each alien had come out of Mordin's lab for a second dose with a somberness about them - even Garrus. Especially Samara. One could taste an identical grief…a bitter, sour guilt, even if it was mistakenly felt.

Shepard didn't even know how she'd gotten back up to her quarters. She couldn't remember Mordin's reaction. She felt numb, like after a particularly gruesome battle, like a scar had been cracked again to bleed afresh, never to fully heal.

There was no doubt she was devastated for Mordin, but another part of her, a little section deep down in the core of her being had died as well. That knowledge that she herself could have no children…and this was the closest she had come, silly and ridiculous as it was. The thought singed like bile in her throat, that of embarrassment and shame and worry for the professor.

She knew that any sort of image of a distraught salarian would have been burned into her brain, but reminiscing, Mordin had been almost chillingly stoic, unsettlingly impassive. He'd dismissed her by "Commander." He never called her that.

She drew circles on her bedspread, drained and brooding. She should sleep. Her body begged for it - the day had been so long, so stressful. Her injections had made her sleepy and sore, but the acidic fear brewing in her heart was reaching a fever pitch.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

The Commander sighed, bit her lip. "EDI….how is he?"

"Professor Solus's vital signs are stable. He is most likely taking his hour of sleep in the lab."

"What's he _really_ doing?"

There was a pause, little more than a microsecond, but in computer terms, it may as well have been a whole minute. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"The few surveillance monitors that he managed _not_ to destroy indicate that he is not researching, reporting or doing any of the usual activities customary to him," the AI replied. "His position is uncharacteristically stationary. Most likely, he is resting."

"Or brooding."

"…That is also a possibility."

"Did he lock the doors?"

"No, Shepard."

She drummed her fingers on her knee. "Thank you, EDI."

Making up her mind, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress and padded barefoot to the door of the elevator. The ride down felt like an age, while what seemed all possible scenarios swirled in her head like a storm on the sea.

She wasn't afraid of him being angry, nor of being outwardly heartbroken. She was not afraid of him lashing out at her, blaming her for bringing back the plague, whatever the case…because she knew he wouldn't do that.

She was afraid of him being _himself_. Of being alone, impassive, almost cavalier. And how that would shatter. How, at some point in the stretch of time, with or without her, how it would rise like an angry tide and overwhelm him.

The sudden _kchhsssss_ of the pausing elevator brought her back to her senses, and she backed into the hallway without a sound, the green holo-light resonant over the tech lab door.

She swallowed, apprehensive of what she would see. His mourning, or absence of, had seemingly become hers.

She was here as much for herself as she was for him. But maybee…maybe now it was only for herself.

The sudden _whoosh_ of the door made her jump - but she drew a deep breath and stepped inside.

It was very, very still, the absence of the professor's usual bustling around making the lab chillingly empty. The lights were off, the shutters open - Mordin was sitting, facing the window, staring out at the void peppered with cold lights, like the thousand eyes of Argus, all-seeing, omniscient and ever too watchful.

He'd heard her come in. There was no way he hadn't, but she still crept over as quietly as possible, standing awkwardly beside him, watching him gaze out into space.

"Hey…"

Silence.

"I…couldn't sleep and…"

Mordin's head shifted slightly, but his eyes did not move. "Know why you're here," he said. Shepard, unsure of what to say, shifted her weight, crossing her arms. Mordin inhaled in that way that was so him, but it sounded all at once, forgive her…_alien_. Slow. Deliberate. Unnerving.

"Here to talk about this afternoon. Must say…don't want to talk." His back straightened a bit. "Discovered problem, lethal combination that weakened immunity and allowed genetic mutations to destroy nervous systems. Chain reaction. Mistakes found. Will take care of…remains in the morning. No use dwelling now."

"Don't say that, Mordin."

"Have dealt with it as much as crew can accommodate. Cannot afford to linger anymore."

The impassivity sparked a flame Shepard had forgotten still existed.

"Mordin," she said. "I won't allow you to pull something like that on my ship."

"Cerberus vessel, Shepard."

"Don't be pedantic."

The temperature in the room dropped several more degrees. His tone turned steely, cold.

"In more emotional state than myself. Appreciate the concern. Hope it doesn't cloud judgement. Goodnight, Commander."

He'd dismissed her. He'd full on _dismissed _her. But it wasn't the tone that set her blood on fire, it was the acting - he was acting as though he didn't _care_. She wanted, for a fleetingly bizarre moment, to seize him by the shoulders and shake him.

"So that's it? You don't feel anything?"

"Not worth it, Shepard. Should not have come to be in the first place. Would have created complications-"

"I don't give a shit about complications. I will not let you push this down and let it simmer until it boils over. How about that? That's a complication. I can't afford _that._"

Mordin jerked his head to face her…and for the first time since the mission with Maelon, she could see anger in his eyes.

"Don't need this, Shepard. Especially not from you. Need commanding officer, not a counselor. Can find those skills much better honed in Yeoman Chambers." He inhaled sharply. "Here to fight. Nothing else. Not to deal with childish arguments over personal matters. Made mistake by telling you about it in the first place."

The words stung like an incendiary round to the gut, jarring, crippling…Shepard let out an involuntary breath, stance losing the threat, her shoulders dropping, her hardened expression torn from her face in the spans of a blink. Her eyes dropped involuntarily, and she caught Mordin shift before she could look up again._ Dammit._

But his harsh tone was gone. Now quiet, remorseful, exhausted. "…Apologies, Commander. Did not mean that. Not all…none of it, actually." He was genuine. She knew. And she was right. It _was_ affecting him.

Mordin, feeling he sink down beside him, was glad she was not one to gloat.

"Me too, Professor. Sorry to pry. I just…" _Worry…you sound like a mother._

"Worry?" He nodded, sounding tired. "Common female reaction. Latent maternal instincts. Usually comes with desire for children."

"Awoke in you apparently."

Mordin didn't speak, and he suddenly looked so very worn that Shepard had to clench her fists to keep from crushing him in a hug. She didn't feel he was ready.

She sighed. "Mordin…it _is_ my _job_ to worry about my crew. I can't…I couldn't _not_ feel this too. And I wonder how _you_ feel."

"Know that, Shepard. But must understand." He looked at her, very serious. "Not worth it."

Shepard felt a shade of pity cloak her heart. "Mordin…don't say that. Please don't-"

"Refuse to let any presumed emotional turmoil to place burden on you, Shepard. Already did so on Tuchanka. Effects more than negative."

"Grieving is not putting a burden on me, Mordin. What _is_ is you keeping it all cooped up."

"Should not have happened in the first place. Answer is simple, Shepard. Don't know how else to say it - not worth it."

"Mordin…you didn't say that to me when I needed help."

She could see him growing flustered, not with her, with himself, scowling at his hands on his knees. "Different ways of thinking, Shepard." His breath came in sharp, frustrated little bursts. "Different emotional capacities. Different process. Cannot afford to mourn. Limits abilities. Limits focus. Limits…"

"Mordin Solus," Shepard said, her voice overpowering his, turning him to face her and gripping his upper arms with surprising force, suddenly embracing in full her role as his superior. "As your _commander_, I'm _ordering_ you to prioritize _your_ emotional well-being as above all else right now." Her voice was fierce, imperative and unarguable. Mordin fell silent, startled at her tone, but his breath caught in his throat when she calmed, and her hands came to cradle his face. "As your friend…I'm saying I won't hold it against you if you need to let it out."

Mordin did not speak. He was still for so long, the commander began to feel doubt creeping into the back of her mind. She held her breath, and felt his thigh press against hers ever so slightly, a timid, involuntary move - he wanted to move closer, she could see it. His body ached to - his mind would not let him. His hand brushed hers as though to shoo it from his cheek, but it froze, flex, as though longing to entwine their fingers…

Shepard did not budge, didn't tug him forward, didn't inch away. She just sat there, waiting for him to make the next move, to know and feel that it was alright. His eyes darted around, anywhere but her face, suddenly brimming, shining with an ache, with hesitation, face crumpling with an overwhelming struggle...until Shepard slipped her arm around his waist, warm, reassuring and heartbreakingly maternal.

He drew in a deep breath, but his vision blurred, throat tight, eyes stinging.

He closed them, and like a great sigh, felt them come. His shoulders trembled slightly, hot, salty tears painting little rivets in his already wrinkled face.

He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, but Shepard caught it and brought it to her own cheek. Her eyes were understanding. She brought his body closer, cradled his head against her shoulder, and let him cry.

Mordin was like her. He was quiet in grief. There was no dramatic sobbing, only soft tears. There were no choking gasps of regret, only small, shallow breaths that passed without questioning. Held in her arms, he just buried his face against her shoulder and let them go.

* * *

><p>Later, much later, they sat quietly, Shepard's body still wrapped warmly around her salarian friend, his hand absently stroking her arm.<p>

"Have been a truly great Commander, Shepard," he said into the silence that had smoothed the tension from earlier. She looked down and smiled at him. He looked back at the covered basket on the floor by his examination table. "Would all have carried your name."

"My name?" He nodded. "As a middle name?"

"No. Well…yes and no. Salarian names quite long."

"But yours is pretty short."

Mordin shifted to look her in the eye, arms wrapped loosely around her shoulders. "Much easier to go by my given name rather than full name."

"It's not 'Mordin Solus?'"

"Again, yes and no. Names include homeworld, nation, city, district, clan name and given name - Sur'Kesh Rig Vain Imet Mien Solus Mordin being mine. Solus is clan name. Mordin is given."

"Ah…" Shepard blinked, then cracked a smile and chuckled. "And how would you have put _my_ name into that collection?"

Mordin thought for a moment. "Under clan. Most heard after given."

The words sucked the air from Shepard's lungs. "Mordin…"

"Proud to be under your command, Shepard." Mordin squeezed her hands. "Would have been prouder to have your name in my legacy."

Shepard opened her mouth to speak, but shut it. She swallowed and said, "But where would 'Solus' go?"

"Would be joined, perhaps. Shepard-Solus. Solus-Shepard. Either way."

"Sounds like we're married."

He laughed. "Could put first name in. But…don't know your first name."

Shepard gave a wry smile. "Well…I don't usually tell people. It's easier just to be recognized by my military title…position…it reminds me of my position, keeps personal stuff at bay. Ah, that sounds horrible."

"No, no. Don't mean to pry. Understand need to maintain position, appearance. Know the feeling." He breathed in. "Know it intimately."

Shepard looked down at their joined hands, Mordin's fingers so long and somehow very encompassing around her roughened, ungloved palms. Her name didn't sound like her at all.

"Eve."

Mordin, who'd been staring at their hands as well, looked up.

"My name's Eve."

Mordin tilted his head. "Interesting. Pleasing. Human bible, first woman, seen as a goddess. Mother of humankind."

"A little ironic."

"How…" The understanding then crossed his face, and his grip tightened. She shrugged.

"Guess it makes two of us."

Mordin looked stricken, but shook his head, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"Beautiful, Shepard. Strong. Children not needed to see that." His tone was earnest. "Eve also known as the perfect woman." He stroked her cheek. "Don't see any irony there. Only truth."

She couldn't help herself, she just couldn't. Without thinking, Shepard moved and kissed him full on the mouth - salarian lips was not made for the action, but she didn't care. She kissed him, right there in the lab, in the dark, because she loved him. She _loved _him, all his ridiculousness, all his unexpected tenderness, all his infuriating "for science" excuses, all his flaws, his blindness, his light, his secrets, every single inch of him.

Mordin, shocked at the gesture, sat there, stunned as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his shoulder. He didn't know what to say. His arms came up to caress her back, and he felt that same warmth burning in his breast from before - he hated crying, hadn't done so for years, but there were no tears with this, only an overwhelming sense of fullness. He clung to her, wishing he could find some logical reason, some explainable, tangible reason for this so he wouldn't feel like a babbling idiot.

Shepard pulled back and kissed him again, pressing her forehead to his. "You," she said. "Just…you."

Mordin couldn't think of anything to say. The only thing that came to mind that could remotely make sense were the words he'd said so much lately. And they fit. "Thank you, Shepard."

* * *

><p>The inevitable has an odd way of approaching. Even when it is constantly in sight, it still leaves a residual shock once it arrives.<p>

It came all too quickly for the two of them. They could not keep them forever, had to deal with the remains. Shepard watched with painful sympathy as Mordin gazed at the little basket on the floor.

"Mordin…I could do it for you if it'd make it any easier."

"No. Need to see. Need to see extent of ignorance. Remind self."

"Well…I want to help."

He drew in a breath, thinking. "Very well. Burden mine, though."

"No, it's not. Not completely."

"Shepard, please. Allow me this."

He stood. She followed suit, watched him lift the basket up and uncover it. Even from this distance, she could see his hands shaking. He did not waver, though, merely picked up an egg and shone the little flashlight beneath it.

"Here," he said, voice a croak. "Ring formed. Blood clot in developing nervous system. Sign of a dud."

Shepard nodded. She took the other flashlight he handed her, picked up a green egg, and found the same ring.

They continued in silence, a solemn kind of intimacy, laying his children to rest. Shepard glanced at him now and then, but he was stony-faced, past the heaviest brunt of grief to ease into the acceptance that followed. Occasionally, she would brush her hand against his, a sign of comfort, and he would nod.

Reaching for a the last of two eggs, Shepard wanted to cry, knowing the twitch of movement she saw was a trick of the light, a mirage to her exhausted eyes in the poorly lit room. She rolled the little blue egg around in her palm, but suddenly froze. There it was again. Again. Not a…scratching, more like a kicking, definitely a movement, a cramped, struggling movement. She stole a look at Mordin, holding her breath, but he had not noticed, was busy checking his last would-be-child.

She held the little light beneath the shell, and saw no ring as Mordin had showed her. She saw a hand. A hand! A three fingered but very much alive hand. It flexed, cramped around the curled up little body that barely fit inside the shell, and Shepard let out the breath she was holding in a laugh so joyous and loud and sudden that Mordin jumped.

"EDI!" She couldn't even summon the words to run diagnostics, to check the vitals, but the subtle beeping told her the computer already understood, was already acting.

"…Yes, Shepard." It was a response to a question unsaid. It was an affirmation. A blissful affirmation. "Yes."

"W-what?" Mordin's voice was wary, his eyes wide, critical, not daring to indulge the hope that was flaring in their depths. "Shepard…"

"Mordin…" Shepard beamed, and there were tears in her eyes. "You've got a straggler."

* * *

><p><strong>See? I'm not COMPLETELY heartless.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

The thing about waiting for a good thing, is it is absolutely agonizing, more so when there is the sour reminder of a mishap barely recovered still lingering, like the bitterness of a pill long since swallowed.

EDI's scans, and, Shepard suspected, Mordin's parent-to-be instincts indicated it wouldn't be more than a day or two before they had a little salarian lassie on their hands. And thus began their current vigil.

As the hours crawled by, Mordin was quiet, monitoring progress, checking stats, the like. Shepard respected his silence. The professor had mentioned a few times he was sure she could step out and answer someone if she needed to, but she'd merely shaken her head, insisting she would wait with him. He was jumpier than usual, as he had been before setting down on Tuchanka, and she could tell - he was anxious.

"Stats normal," he reported for the eighth time, omni-tool flickering out of sight. He cleared his throat, now having nothing else to do other than gaze at the little sphere, wrapped snugly in the incubator.

"Well that's good." Shepard leaned against the exam table. "How are you holding up?"

Mordin looked at her, and she saw a rare nervousness in his face. "Strange. Usually delighted when presented with challenge…not that this isn't a good thing…" He inhaled deeply, gazed back at his little egg, swallowing. "Apprehensive. Moment of birth crucial. Photographic memory. Loyalty based on first being in sight. Forms a bond for the remainder of life."

"That's 'imprinting'?"

"Correct." He sat back against his desk, and she joined him, her hand on his knee.

"But the parents aren't present?"

"No. Dalatrass of both families are always there for birth of females. Ensures loyalty to families, continues dynasty. Most of species male, very strictly regulated…best if loyalty is not solely with me. Don't have much time left."

"Don't say -"

"Being realistic, Shepard. Genetic implants go only so far."

Her hand tightened on his knee involuntarily. He started at the squeeze, put a hand on her arm.

"Sorry…" Shepard cleared her throat, blinked a few times. "Well…what Do you want someone else from the ship in here with you? Like Miranda?"

Mordin sniffed and pulled a face. "Unsure if Cerberus loyalty would benefit in the long-term."

"Understandable." She thought a moment. "Do you want to keep it secret? I think Garrus let it slip to a few people. But no one knows she's _alive_."

Mordin's fingers twitched at the pronoun change. "No. No shame. Secrecy indicates shame in this situation. Just want everything to go right. Want…" He paused. "Want best possible start for her."

"Well, what about Garrus? Preserving that salarian-turian alliance?"

Mordin shook his head. "No. Don't want to be alone, but inviting crew members seems more hinderance than help." He looked conflicted. "Must confess, never witnessed hatching process of own race before."

"Never? But you're a doctor!"

"Sacred ritual, imprinting," Mordin replied. "Solemn. Never allowed to record process. Effects on memory and perception of offspring could be dramatic. Never know unless tried. Never has been." He looked around the lab - Shepard thought he looked a little helpless. "Have read about it, yes. Numerous times over, part of studying physiology, have to understand reproduction. Risk of contamination low. Still…atmosphere not ideal. Harsh. Bright. Could harm retinas and cause residual shock due to plague remnants. To use human phrase, not out of the woods yet."

"She's obviously a tough little sparkplug, though." Shepard gazed at him, his hands wringing slightly, his face still calm and collected but colored with that worry that refused to leave. Gently, she slipped her arm into the crook of his and laid her head on his shoulder. "It'll be fine, Mordin. She'll be fine."

Usually, he would have made a comment on the actual odds, but he didn't. Instead, his arm tightened a bit, pulling her closer. "Would like _you_ here," he murmured.

Shepard didn't want to say she was expecting he'd say that - she'd just hoped he would.

She knew salarians needed little sleep - such a high metabolism kept them running on one hour nightly while she cracked in a good eight when she was lucky. She was tired, but she couldn't just leave him there. He hadn't slept in almost three days, and it was starting to show. His eyes were glazed, they didn't look normal, mouth a thin line, shoulders slumped slightly with tiredness.

Shepard rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. He glanced at her. "Should sleep," he said quietly. "Being here not your top priority as Commander."

"I'm the Commander. My top priority is my business." Shepard poked him in the side with a forgiving smile. Mordin returned it, patted her hand, then gestured to the cot on the other side of the room.

"Feel free to use. Comfortable enough."

Shepard didn't let go of his hand. She ran her fingers over his wrist turned his hand over to smooth her thumb over his palm. He looked at her, knew what she was insinuating, but shook his head.

"Mordin, you're tired."

"Can't leave her, Shepard. Can manage myself."

Shepard sighed, didn't push it. Mordin nudged her knee with his, though, indicating again that she should rest. "Should get your rest. Need you in top condition." He inclined his head. "Doctor's orders," he said, and there was affection in his face that, in spite of all her apprehensions, warmed Shepard to the core of her belly.

She gave him another long, pleading look, but then nodded and got up. She couldn't see with her back turned, but Mordin's smile had faltered as he gazed at her - she felt it, though, felt his energy drop, felt his confusion and fear and new, dare she say it, "maternal" nature kicking in to think the worst and forget to hope for the best.

She lay down and pulled the thin blanket over her, curling up on her side to face the wall. She hadn't realized just how tired she was._ Just a catnap_, she told herself. _So he isn't stuck all alone_. Not that he couldn't handle himself…

She drifted off restlessly, moving about, shivering every now and then. Mordin's body temperature ran hotter - it meant the lab ran colder than the rest of the ship, and the blanket wasn't nearly as warm as she'd hoped. She drew her knees closer in towards her body with a sigh, trying not to pay attention to the deadening silence save for Mordin's gentle shifting every now and then, tried not to feel intruding on what should be his rest.

Mordin shook his head slightly, eyes itching with tiredness. His vision was blurring, a sign of fatigue, but he pressed through it. He'd been under worse pressure.

"Professor Solus…" The blue hologram had popped up at the console by his desk, quieter as not to wake Shepard. "My monitors are sufficient to detect any possible movement that would indicate preparation to hatch. I would suggest sleep."

"Appreciate advice, EDI. Will stay here, regardless."

"Professor, I must inform you that you are risking complications due to fatigue. Your own health matters. I will care for her for now."

Mordin was silent.

"I assure you, it is in her best interest."

Half-asleep, Shepard felt the cot dip behind her, tentative at first, as though trying not to wake her. The shock almost sent her into a soldier's reflex, about to whip around and catch whoever it was by the throat, but she recognized the shadow on the wall and her heart leapt as she felt Mordin sink down onto the bed.

"Giving in?" She couldn't see his expression in the dark.

"Realized sleep necessary. Don't want to risk mistakes."

"Gotcha." She shifted and scooted towards the wall to make room for him next to her. He paused, propped on his elbow.

"Apologies," he whispered. "Can move if you'd like. Desk chair-"

"No, no! I'm the one intruding in your space."

Mordin shook his head, reclined fully with a wry grin.

"Really, Mordin. I'm used to close quarters."

Mordin settled on his side, facing her. "Need extra blanket? Should have known lab was cold for normal human body temperature."

"No, no." Shepard beckoned him closer. "Here, share…"

Mordin let her throw the blanket over his narrow frame, not that he really needed it. He'd removed his jacket, Shepard noticed, as well as the bracers on his arms, stripped down to the suit he wore beneath it. It was odd to see him out of his usual outfit, it made him look a little…naked. The heat from his body was stronger, more potent now that she was close, now that there was one less layer between them. She must have physically relaxed, because Mordin's brow raised.

"Should have said something if you were cold," he murmured.

"You were busy." Being so close to him, her stomach quivered a bit, heart brimming. At the same time, she felt awkward, as one could only feel after kissing their much older, much less 'prone to romance' lead alien scientist. Come to think of it, she was alone in that category.

But he processed things so fast, he may have found that kiss less than enjoyable and gotten over it without her even batting an eyelash.

"Seem preoccupied."

"Hm?"

"Heart-rate elevated." He gestured between the small space between them. "Can feel it."

Shepard felt at a loss for words. She looked at him, looked into those large, sweet oval eyes that showed nothing but care.

"I'm…I'm being a little selfish," she said.

"Would disagree."

"No…no, I am." She sighed. "I know you're species doesn't…._feel_ the way mine do when, um, expressing emotions. So…this thing between us…what happened the other day…I can't help but be a little heartbroken that it's not going to _last _the way I wish it would."

Mordin took her hands in his, and his tone was balanced, tender, yet business-like. "Have hypothesis on feelings being experienced," he said, all at once like his usual, chipper self. "Usually sexual attraction based on instinct, body's reaction to recognizing mate to produce healthy offspring. Current situation aside," he added, "I am far past that stage. Now," he said, touching her chin, "biologically have no reason to find me attractive. But salarian relationships often not based on sexual attraction. _Deep_ relationships," he added, seeing her balk. "Not breeding contracts. Relationships based on mutual kinship, shared experiences. Deep, close friendship." He gripped both her shoulders and implored her to understand, his tone almost pleading. "Can sustain _that_ love, Shepard, lifetimes over. Species doesn't matter. Crosses borders. Finds way."

And as cliché as it sounded, she understood. For him, this _**was**_ romantic.

And that was all at once enough for her.

Mordin moved into her space, tucking his arm around her waist in the process and pulling her close without hesitation, so intimate, it was almost spousal. "Unlikely that feelings of need for you here during hatching are not directly related. Don't need your help. Need your _companionship_. Will do the hard work myself."

Shepard grinned, brushed a thumb over a scar beneath his eye. "Labor pains, love. Labor pains."

**A/N: I'm SO sorry it took me so long to update. I'm in the process of moving, and didn't have a lot of time to write. But now I do! Once again, I apologize for the mush and cliches and fluff. But thank you for sticking with me through this silly little story for so long. It really means so much to me. :3**


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